Cold as Stone Angels
by Cold Gentlemen
Summary: DH Epilogue, Scorpius/Albus. Adventure, romance, dark themes. Tightly plotted but there will be sex.
1. Chapter 1

**Cold as Stone Angels Prologue**

This is the prologue for my Harry Potter Deathly Hallows Epilogue fic. The main pairing is Scorpius/Albus. The prologue is rated G and has no warnings except for pre-slash. The rest of the fic will eventually get fairly graphic and involve detailed sex scenes, a lot of adventure, violence, angst and all that good stuff.

Do not own. Thank you, Ms. Rowling, for creating a world I like to play with.

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If Albus Potter didn't stop crying, Scorpius was absolutely certain he was going to get up and smother the brat with a pillow. He could picture it. He would slip out of bed, pick up the eider-down pillow he brought with him from home, sling it over Potter's sniveling little head and press down.

No, on second thought, he wouldn't want to sleep on his pillow once it had snot and tears on it. He'd slip out of bed, yank Albus' pillow out from under his face and press it down on top of him. Yes, good. Scorpius entertained himself with that mental exercise for a minute or two, but it was hard to concentrate with the sound of the brat's infernal sniffling and sobbing.

Finally, he let out an explosive sigh and rolled heavily on to his back. "Potter."

Albus' sobbing stopped with a snort, and then devolved into helpless hiccups, his slight frame shivering like a hairless dog Scorpius had seen once at a ball held by one of his cousins. _He's not cold,_ the lady had said, stroking the smooth skin, _he's nervous._

"For Merlin's sake, what _can_ the matter _be_?"

Potter was silent, alternately sobbing and hiccuping and gasping for breath. It was as if he was deliberately trying to find something more annoying than the crying. Then he said, "They're going to hate me."

Scorpius opened his mouth, but before a word could emerage, Albus continued: "My family's going to hate me. Especially James and Lily. I know Dad said that it was okay if I wound up in Slytherin, that some of the bravest people he'd known came from Slytherin, but-"

"Your father said that?" Scorpius could not quite believe it. It certainly didn't fit the impression of Harry Potter he'd always been given.

"Yes, but-"

Scorpius sighed, swung his long legs off the bed and stood up. "Potter."

"Y-y-yes?"

Malfoy approached lightly, bare feet picking their way with ginger distaste over the cold floor. "Does your father make a habit of lying to you?"

"N-no, but-" Albus was lifting his face. It was tear-streaked, but a little pretty, and Scorpius could not pretend he didn't enjoy the rapt expression in the brilliantly green eyes, almost glowing and focused entirely on him. Nervous like a skittish foal about to race away, but rapt.

Scorpius sat down deliberately on the edge of Albus' bed. "Or perhaps he often tells stories? Says things he doesn't mean?"

"No, but-"

Scorpius cupped Albus' face in his hand, giving the boy a hard stare. "Do you actually have an addendum to add, or are you just saying 'but' in order to argue with me?"

Albus swallowed and shook his head. "But... all my family have been Gryffindors. What... how would you feel if you hadn't been a Slytherin?"

The question surprised Scorpius so much he threw back his head and laughed. "Me? Not a Slytherin? _That _was never going to happen."

Potter's lower lip pouted out and his jaw set. It was the first bit of backbone Scorpius had seen from the other boy. "You're not answering my question."

Scorpius shrugged and let his hand fall to the mattress, where it smoothed the sheet absently. "I suppose," he said after a moment's deliberation, "I would feel a bit silly. I mean, how would you react to a Gryffindor named Scorpius Malfoy?"

Albus laughed. The sound was childlike, but also fluid and warm.

Scorpius tapped him lightly on the cheek with his palm. "But I _wouldn't _be crying about it. Now stop being so melodramatic and go to sleep." He stood up and was halfway to his bed when he heard Potter's voice again, through slowing, stifled last gasps of tears.

"Malfoy? Thank you."

"Mmhmm." Scorpius smoothed his own sheets, making certain he would not have to kick them around to be fully covered.

"Can I... ask you for a favor?"

He glanced over at Albus. The boy was slightly flushed. "If it will get you to shut up so that I can sleep."

"I always have nightmares after I cry. Normally, I'd go sleep with James. You know, to keep the nightmares... but since it's just you and me..."

Scorpius slipped into his bed and gave the other boy a cold, intense stare. "Are you _joking_?"

The tremble of the lower lip made it clear that he wasn't.

"You're a helpless crybaby who can't sleep alone at eleven years old? _Why_ in Merlin's name are you in Slytherin?"

Sniffle. Sob.

Malfoy sighed again, turned on his side and lifted the sheet invitingly. "If you wet the bed, I _will_ kill you."

Albus came shyly over, moving carefully. He was obviously nearly as uncomfortable as Scorpius, but then he relaxed and leaned back. Scorpius froze, unable to move for a moment because of the sheer strangeness of a warm back pressing against his chest and the shampoo scent of hair in his face. He inwardly cursed and reconciled himself to not getting any sleep at all.

"You could have been in Gryffindor," Albus murmured happily against Scorpius' eider-down pillow.

"You're here to _sleep_," Scorpius growled. "One more word and you're on the floor, full body bind cursed for the rest of the night."

As the boy next to him nuzzled into the pillow on his way to sleep, Scorpius could have sworn he heard him purr. Manipulative little Potter prick.


	2. Chapter 2

1Title: Cold as Stone Angels  
**Chapter: **One / Fire  
**Fandom: **Harry Potter (DH Epilogue)  
**Pairing: **Scorpius/Albus  
**Rating:** PG  
**Warnings: **Since movies are now rated PG for 'scary situations' so is this. It's also getting slashier.  
**Notes:** CaSA is a Scents-ibility fanfic, designed with the challenge of choosing new and interesting pairings or looking at existing favorite pairings through the lens of sensual aromas. The scents involved are Merlot and Sage.

Albus coughed. He could breathe only acrid, oily smoke and feel only bruises, the pantry stairs beneath him and the growing heat rising from the store shelves as they burned. Again, he forced himself to his feet and slammed his shoulder to the wood. His voice was nothing more than a whispered croak no matter how he tried to scream.

"Scorpius! Somebody!"

The dried out wood of the shelves had already caught a fiercer blaze, but because of the sick dark colour of the smoke, even what illumination the fire should have cast was dulled. Albus didn't dare descend the steps to search further for his wand since he had barely beat out the fire that crawled up his trouser leg the last time he'd tried it. Tears streamed down Albus' cheeks as he fought desperately to breathe.

"Scorpius, damn you . . . " He rested his sweat-soaked forehead against the door. "Where are you?"

As Albus stirred, the potion in his cauldron quickly became transparent, the last smoky clouds vanishing with each able stroke. 

Professor Slughorn paused, thumbs hooked in the new braces that had been a gift from a very influential friend and which he now displayed at every opportunity. "Excellent," he intoned. "Just like your father! The delicacy required to manage the transformation so quickly is so very rarely found in boys your age."

Albus lowered his eyes, ignoring the snickering that rose up behind him. Frankly, their jealousy amused him. It served them right that they would never receive such compliments, if all they thought about was lowering others rather than lifting themselves.

"Thank you, Professor." 

He did not fail to notice Scorpius tap his wand almost absently against his own knuckles, the tip pointing coincidentally at the snickerer who had the most interesting things to say about Albus Potter's delicacy. He also didn't fail to notice how said snickerer suddenly shut his trap. He smirked, most of it hidden under the chin-length black hair that fell forward when he tilted his head. 

"I really wasn't bothered, Scorpius," he murmured. 

As usual, his gentle, calm tone irritated Scorpius. Which was an added bit of amusement. The sharp grey eyes, which should have been glacial but instead flashed like mercury fire, narrowed in Albus' direction. "Well, I _was_." 

Malfoy's stirring stick clinked against the edge of his own cauldron. "How is anyone except a prodigy like you expected to concentrate with all that whinging and yapping?"

Albus leaned further, pretending to concentrate so that his smile wouldn't show. "Do it slowly and keep to the center. Try to form a miniature whirlpool."

"Sometimes I wonder who is the protégée," Scorpius grumbled, but he wasn't displaying any of the symptoms of real annoyance, so Albus ignored him. He noted that Scorpius was paying close attention to Albus' work, and even making some alterations in his own potion. 

"Only in Potions," Albus replied. Then his soft lips formed a wicked smirk, and he let Scorpius see the edge of it. "... and Charms, and Herbology . . . "

"Defense Against the Dark Arts is after this," his friend purred. "Apparently you have a craving for humiliation."

"I might cry."

"If you weren't _smirking_, I might believe that."

Looking at the two of them, it would be difficult not to jump to conclusions. Albus Severus Potter was of average height for his age, slim and not athletic. He had strong, regular features and extremely pale skin, almost translucent with the bluish shadows of mother-of-pearl that are usually found only in the skin of true redheads. The freckles on his face were so faint that you had to be centimeters away to notice them, but the ones on his shoulders were far more visible, assuming you caught him in swimwear or on a swelteringly hot day. 

In contrast to the pale skin, his hair was black and wild, though the length of it added enough weight that it didn't usually look so rumpled as his father's or his brother's. His eyes were vibrantly green. He was extremely popular among the girls, because in addition to his beautiful face, he was never uncomfortable around the opposite sex. He had started out in Slytherin awkward and unhappy, always second guessing himself, and had been humiliated his first day of Flying Lessons when he shocked the entire class by failing to get his broom to rise until his fifth try. However, as the years went on, Albus bloomed into a soft-spoken yet confident young man who was the favorite for Head Boy in two years. 

Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy was tall and lean, the sort of boy who looks thin with his clothes on but beautifully-muscled with them off. His features were sharp, but the large eyes and lips transformed them from being pointed to being overly sensual, and together with the fact that his hair reached halfway down his thighs, could cause him to look astonishingly feminine. However, Scorpius had the Malfoy pallor, more alabaster in colour than Albus (and actually not quite as pale or prone to sunburn), and between the nearly white blond of his hair and the eyes, as storm grey as carbon steel, there was an ephemeral intimidating quality to him. 

He spoke in an unusual way, placing biting emphasis on certain words, and was a natural expert at cutting others down to size. Almost all of Slytherin was afraid of him, and many in other Houses as well. He wasn't fond of company at all, except for Albus. 

"Well, class, that concludes the lesson. Enjoy your summer holiday." There was a susurrus of closing books, bags and robes rustling and a rising din of conversation. Amid it all, Scorpius reached out and caught Albus just above his elbow, pulling him out of the way of the throng.

"You're not hungry, then," Albus observed, noting the direction of their feet.

"It can wait." Malfoy pulled a folded piece of heavy vellum out of his sleeve, leaning casually against the wall as he opened it. "I received this at breakfast, but I wasn't fool enough to open a note from my father there." He glanced up, searching Albus' face for an expression, but all he received was a nod of acknowledgment. He puffed out a little hiss and continued: "It seems my grandparents have opened the villa near Pompeii. My father has invited me, but he has business to discuss with Grandfather, so he'd rather I go directly to the government Portkey in San Felice Circeo and take a brief cruise round the island first. I think it sounds a good plan, but I want you to come with me."

"Really?" Albus' eyes lit up. "A cruise in Italy, and then a villa near Pompeii? And we could see the ruins?"

"Yes, of course." It was evident how much pleasure Scorpius took out of being able to promise things Albus wanted. It made Albus always want to tease him a little, but usually Albus refrained. 

Usually. "And we could make love in the ruins . . . " He continued, not altering his tone. 

"Y-" Crimson burned in Scorpius cheeks suddenly. He recovered admirably. "I wasn't planning on inviting any of your little _tarts_. Now go and owl your parents; ask if you may come." 

"Yes, Mr. Malfoy sir," Albus laughed, doing an admirable impression of a House Elf. "Alby is going!"

Harry waited as his wife set down the letter. He searched her face. Her expression was open, reflecting his own thoughts. A troubled line formed between her perfect red eyebrows and her jaw set. 

"The Malfoys," she said.

Even after twenty-three years it was hard to forget and more difficult yet to trust. Frankly, Harry would have tossed an invitation from Draco Malfoy without looking at it, and responded to one from Lucius Malfoy with even more disgust. He'd been initially surprised that his most sensitive, shy child had been Sorted into Slytherin, although a part of him considered it almost a tribute to Snape. Sometimes lying in bed at night, he toyed with the suspicion that the Sorting Hat had intended it as some sort of homage to the man's heroism, which had never been disclosed to the world. 

Ginny spoke his thoughts aloud, in that easy way she had: "If it were just Scorpius, I'd feel differently." 

Harry nodded. He had not expected Albus' best mate to be anything other than a small carbon copy of his father, as he'd looked the first time Harry caught sight of him on Platform 9 3/4. They'd expected the worst the first time he'd come to visit. Ginny had even been heard making low threats of particularly embarrassing hexes if Scorpius insulted her cooking or the accommodations. 

Scorpius had surprised them. At first he was distant and a little stiff, but no more so than anyone else in that awkward first meeting. Albus began to tease him, and James joined in, and soon he had warmed into a sort of dominant sarcasm that reminded Harry, a bit eerily, of Sirius Black. He had rough edges, of course. There was the Malfoy attitude, certainly, but Harry found himself thinking of it more as regal than priggish once Scorpius had completely won him over. 

This had happened when James, completely forgetting he'd promised Lily to help her practice for the Quidditch tryouts, double-booked a date with one of his many lovely girlfriends. 

Scorpius had stood up and walked to the door, lifting one of the old spare brooms casually in one hand. 

"Don't tell me you have a date too," Ginny had said. 

Scorpius smiled. "You play Chaser, Lily?" he asked. 

The girl, barely eleven at the time, nodded, her long red hair bouncing. 

"Come on then." Scorpius gestured with a quick jerk of his chin. "I'll give you a chance to practice against the Slytherin Keeper. Perhaps you'll even learn some inside secrets." 

It had meant a great deal to Lily. She practiced with her mother or father almost every day, but she confided to Harry that she thought her brothers and their friends considered her to be a stupid baby and avoided her. Out in the field, Scorpius had treated her like a complete equal, except when he paused to give her advice. Harry never heard what he said, but once he heard Lily's voice rise back with, "Ooh, mum told me that too." 

Dinner that night had been more animated, and Ginny made sure both Scorpius and Lily got extra helpings. 

Harry glanced again at the letter. "We have to say yes," he sighed. 

"Fine," Ginny pulled a fresh piece of paper out of her desk. "You respond, while I tell Malfoy all the dreadful things that will happen to him if our son so much as stubs his toe."

Harry laughed and scrawled a brief reply on the bottom of Albus' note. He was just fixing it to the leg of the owl when Ginny said, "Should I list it alphabetically or chronologically?"

Albus noticed Draco Malfoy's close scrutiny as he climbed into the Ministry car beside Scorpius. It was not precisely insulting, merely focused in a way that did not quite tell Albus what Draco was thinking. Those pale grey eyes, so much like his son's, had an opacity that Scorpius' lacked. However, Albus noticed Draco's fingers twitch lightly at his side, and the conversation he held with Scorpius was not as relaxed or frank as usual. Something was not right, and he held himself silent, listening to the nuances of their voices as they spoke of daily matters and minor annoyances. 

The conversation trailed off as their driver parked the car, stepping smartly around to open the door for Draco and then, coincidentally, Albus. They emerged into wan London sunlight, ignoring the occasional odd glance of a Muggle at their unusual attire. It was only a block to the entry point, a somewhat seedy-looking hotel with stained grey awnings over its glass and bronze doors. Draco led them in silence to an incongruous electronic photo booth, which the three of them squeezed into uncomfortably. Albus could smell expensive cologne drift subtly from Draco, while Scorpius smelled almost subliminally of bergamot. 

A flash of light. The floor lowered until they were in the featureless center of a lift descending quickly and smoothly to the dark and busy entrance hall of the Ministry of Magic. Here, many wizards called greetings to Mr. Malfoy, which he responded to with absent grace. 

They took a second lift, crammed full of wizards and witches as well as flying multicolored memos, to the Department of Transportation and International Affairs, where Draco filled out a waiver for use of the Italian Portkey for Albus and Scorpius. 

He then turned to Scorpius and rested a hand lightly over his son's pale hair. "Take the proper precautions. The ship is the Napoleon. Its master knows you are arriving. Don't waste too much time in San Felice. You have the map and the token?"

"Yes, Father," Scorpius said, with what Albus considered for him to be inexhaustible patience. "Thank you." Scorpius kissed his father on the cheek, turned smartly and dragged Albus forward by the wrist. "We'd best be off."

"Thank you, Mr. Malfoy," Albus murmured. 

Draco smiled faintly and nodded, then was gone in a flash as Scorpius' hand closed around a chipped plaster bust of Cromwell. 

Albus, who had little knowledge of geography, had expected something similar to the Ministry in England. When the dizzying flight suddenly ended, he found himself rocked nearly off his feet, falling against Scorpius' chest. When he straightened to look around, he found himself in a wide yet small room with tiled blue floors, white stucco walls decorated with ancient peeling frescos, and a slanted roof. The thin rectangular windows let in streams of Italian sunshine, wilder and brighter than that of the day they'd left in London. The room was entirely empty except for an X chalked onto the floor near where they stood and piles upon piles of boxes, scrolls and envelopes. 

"This is just a drop off point for transactions from the Ministry in Italy," Scorpius explained. "My father is the first person who ever thought of using it for human transport." 

Albus smiled at the pride in his voice. 

They exited the tiled room, coming out down a short passage to the street. It was drenched in sunlight and the smell of the sea and of citrus trees drifted in the air. Albus immediately began unbuttoning his robe, feeling the heat press against him in a palpable caress. The robe was of silk, a few shades darker than his eyes, and he laid it over his arm as they walked.

Scorpius, glancing his way, untied the knotted black cravat beneath his chin and opened his silver brocade robe nearly to the waist, but did not remove it. He did, however, use the cravat as a wide, makeshift ribbon to pull his mass of hair up and off his neck. 

Albus noted the stares as they passed, but his Italian wasn't good enough to tell what they whispered to each other. He leaned in and murmured to Scorpius, "What are they saying?"

Scorpius frowned. "As near as I can tell, they believe we're doing some sort of modeling photography." 

Albus laughed. "How flattering."

The city was absolutely beautiful, and quite unexpected. Albus drank it in, eyes wide and rapt. The labyrinthine streets took them through cottages and piazzas, many ancient and of white stone with bright tiled roofs. 

The San Felice Circeo morning was quiet and refreshing, nearly soundless compared to London. At one point a lime tree bent its bough over the low wall of a nearby villa, and the enticing scent invited Albus to reach up and pluck a firm green fruit. As they walked on, he listened to the low music of Scorpius' amusement as Albus peeled half the skin off the lime and bit into it, relishing the sharp, sun-warmed tartness. 

The walk was too soon over, for their steps quickly led them to the dock. Row upon row of boats, some old-fashioned but most bright and new, flashing metallic in the morning light, moved sluggishly as they were rocked by the dark turquoise water. They walked together up and down the line until they were able to read the words "Napoleon" printed on the finialed aft of a mid-sized ship. The ship was all of polished wood as far as Albus could see, in deep auburn and gold, with a large mast hung with riggings and gold-edged sails. 

Scorpius reached into his robe and withdrew a silver chain, at the end of which was a coin bearing the Malfoy crest. The nearest person aboard the Napoleon, an elderly lady with strong brown biceps bared by her white blouse, leapt down upon seeing it, and, bowing deeply to Scorpius, proceeded to help them up into the ship 

"I hope you remembered a charm against sunburn," Scorpius remarked, glancing upward at the heavy yellow sun. 

Albus raised his eyebrows, slipped his wand out of his pocket and spoke the charm. He pointed his wand at Scorpius and repeated it. Scorpius laughed. 

"Though I'm not_ nearly _the lobster you can be at times, I appreciate that." 

They watched as the crew began to get the ship ready, doing things that Albus didn't understand with ropes and shouts and casual banter. In order to get out of their way, Albus led Scorpius to the forecastle, where they stood near the rail and looked back up over the city. Albus noted the strange rock formation high in the mountain above San Felice Circeo, and pointed it out to Scorpius, who was irritably holding his hair in one fist so that the wind wouldn't send its long ends, despite his ponytail, whipping into his face. 

"It looks a bit like a lady's face, doesn't it?"

Scorpius nodded. "The village is named partly after the witch Circe. This is one of the locations her island of death was meant to be. They say that face is hers."

"Circe, hm? She was the one who turned men into pigs and controlled them by draining their blood as they slept?" 

A sharp laugh was his response. "There are potions," Scorpius mused, "that require a few drops of the blood of the imbiber. That is _very_ dark magic, however, and most people don't know how to manage it."

"What do they do?"

"One of them ages the person that drinks it. He would become gnarled and old and die within days. The other is a love potion."

"A love potion is _very_ dark magic?" Albus watched the water as the ship began to drift slowly away from the dock. The top portion of it was semi-transparent, and flecks of grime and drifting weeds speckled the deep green waves.

"The Imperius Curse is an Unforgivable, yes?" 

Albus nodded. 

"Well, then. If it is Unforgivable to compel a person to act only according to your desires, than it must be very dark magic indeed to force someone to _desire_ to do only as you wish."

Albus nodded, staring pensively into the water. "But I wouldn't call that a love potion, Scorpius. More like . . . an enslavement potion."

"From one end," Scorpius agreed. "From the other end, it is a love potion. _Just_ a very nasty one."

By noon they were far enough into the sea that the coastline was a glimmering necklace of green and platinum, and all around them the sunlight cast sharp silver shadows on the water. It was hot enough that the sun was a weight against Albus' skin, and he felt flushed and uncomfortable. He retired to the cabin a bit earlier than Scorpius, who paused to make brief conversation with the captain. Scorpius was being clipped and cool, which made Albus think the captain's manners didn't impress him. 

His steps assaulted the stairs down into the cabin, and Albus rolled over on the bunk, making room for his friend to sit down. Scorpius ripped his robe front open and began to fan himself with the heavy fabric as he leaned back. His feet were pointing the same direction as Albus' head, and vice versa. Albus reached over and picked up one of Scorpius' large, long hands. He began to massage the palm with both hands, fingers working gently into the muscles and crawling up his wrist. Scorpius let out a soft hiss and relaxed into the hard bunk mattress.

"You have the fingers of a god."

"That's true, but they're on loan," Albus agreed. "You won't be able to enjoy them forever."

Scorpius swatted him with the tail of his robe. "The single discordant aspect of your otherwise agreeable personality is that smart little mouth. I remember with nostalgic fondness when you would barely speak your mind around me and look at me with those wide, innocent little eyes."

Albus smiled softly, arching his neck as he blew at a strand of black hair that had fallen across his lips. His fingers worked their way from Scorpius' forearm down to his hand again, massaging each individual finger. He stared up at the sloping roof above them.

"Scorpius . . . "

"Hm?"

Albus was silent, waiting until Scorpius turned to look at him. His eyes were absolutely intense, and Scorpius' grey ones widened in response, his lips parting as if to speak. Albus brought Scorpius' hand to his mouth and pressed a soft kiss to the center of the palm. His eyes burned. 

Scorpius stared at him. Albus, feeling a coldness run over his skin, settling unpleasantly in the pit of his stomach, turned away, letting his hair cover his face. His fingers dropped away from Scorpius' hand. 

"Albus."

"It meant nothing!" Albus snapped. 

Scorpius reached up, grasped Albus' forearm and pulled, moving the slimmer boy into a sitting position, staring into his face. He pushed Albus' hair out of his face and held it there, fingertips just behind Albus' ear. 

"I _know_ that's a lie," he said quietly. "What I need to know is, what _did _it mean?"

Albus squirmed, and Scorpius' grip tightened so that it was nearly bruising. "That hurts."

"Then stop making it hurt." Scorpius' eyes were like limitless glaciers, and the dim golden light trickling in from the deck above lay over them, giving them a feral quality. 

"Let me go." 

Scorpius did not obey, but Albus' posture was tight and pensive, his body quivering. He suddenly looked up and his eyes were cold and furious. "I said let me go, Scorpius. Now!"

Scorpius' lips skinned back from his teeth. "What is wrong with you?"

Those emerald eyes lowered again. "I'll go get us some lunch. We can discuss this later."

Malfoy's fingers slowly unclenched. "Very well," he said, moving his legs so that Albus could get off the bunk. "But we _will_ discuss it. I don't forget things."

Albus cast him a sardonic smile as he stalked up to the deck. 

The deeply tanned old lady was tying off a knot near the edge of the ship, her strong hands working with quiet competence. Albus approached her. "Excuse me, ma'am. I take it since we're to take a several day long cruise, we're provisioned for meals?"

She looked at him and smiled, showing several gold teeth. "We've a full pantry. I'll show you." She led him to a set of dark stairs, a bit more weathered than those to the cabin. Albus descended quickly after giving her thanks, and wedged the door open with his shoulder. Past the door was another brief flight of stairs, and then shelves full of foodstuffs, as well as heavy barrels. 

Albus let the door close behind him, withdrawing his wand from his pocket. "Lumos," he murmured, gazing across at his options with the glowing tip held as a lantern. He turned to examine the spigot of a barrel, turning it lightly and smiling as the scent of wine rose up into the air. 

He was nearly fast enough. He heard a whispered phrase, clearly a spell, though none he recognized. He whirled, and saw nothing. Something struck him violently in his stomach and he doubled over, dropping his wand. The sharp pop of Apparation sounded just as the shelves nearest him flared into flame. Falling to the ground, he felt for his wand, coughing as the first coils of noxious smoke inundated his lungs. 

He gasped as a tongue of bright yellow flame crawled up his trouser leg, and, beating at it, climbed up the steps, distancing himself as much as possible from the blaze. Pounding on the door, he found it would not open.

"Scorpius!" He shouted. "Somebody!"

Scorpius' jaw clenched. His head pounded and he pressed it against the wood wall, wishing it was cool against his skin. Albus had confused him, and he despised the feeling of helplessness that confusion brought. He despised even more the way Albus had looked at him, upset and clearly hurt. It had all gone by so fast. First that soft and clearly romantic kiss, and then, mere moments later, Albus' uncharacteristic explosion. 

He had not done anything to imply a rejection, had he? He couldn't remember much except his surprise, but the kiss had pleased him. Had Albus disliked it?

He sighed and stalked up to the deck. Foot barely above the stairs, he froze in place, his wand snapped out of his sleeve. Something was wrong. The sails flapped oddly. There was an unpleasant smell in the air, like burnt bacon, and no banter or laughter from the crew. Scorpius looked around. 

The body nearest him was that of the old woman, but soon he realized all of them were the same. When he rolled them over, they were horrible things, with bulging eyes and faces covered in the blood that had poured from their every orifice. 

He smelled it again. Burning . . . "Albus!" The words exploded out of his mouth in something very close to a scream. Scorpius gritted his teeth and ran about the deck, opening every door he could find. At last he came to one that was locked, and his stomach clenched with rage as he heard a soft coughing behind it. 

"Alohomora," he shouted, and he flung the door open. Albus was lying prone on the steps, just visible before a wave of oily black smoke covered him. Scorpius hurried down and knelt beside him. Albus seemed half conscious, coughing weakly as Scorpius got an arm underneath him. It was not easy to lift the other boy, but he managed to get him up onto his feet. "Albus?" 

Scorpius shook his friend lightly. "Albus, answer me!"

"Sco-" Malfoy's name was cut off as the fire behind them suddenly flared. Scorpius reacted instinctively, turning his body so that it protected Albus. Searing pain screamed its way across his arm. Albus shifted underneath him, and together they raced up out of the pantry. The ship was creaking around him and the center, near the mast, was all ablaze.

Scorpius skinned off his robe and tossed it into the water. The pain in his arm was so immense that he could hardly think. Albus was supporting himself with one arm upon the rail and, holding Scorpius' wand, casting jets of clear water into the blaze, but it was no avail.

Scorpius grabbed his arm. "It's no use. Have you a water breathing charm?"

Albus nodded. "I'll get us both." He seemed to notice Scorpius' arm then and gasped. "Scorpius!" 

"Worry about it later. For now, the charm. Our lives are at stake."

Albus nodded and spoke the words, moving Scorpius' wand in an intricate sort of way. He repeated it for himself. With one last glance at the burning gold-edged sails of the Napoleon, they wrapped good arms around each other and leapt into the frozen water. 


End file.
